


touch

by littlestrideer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, baseball AU, im so sorry im trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlestrideer/pseuds/littlestrideer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes you wish you knew why he had to be related to you, how you had to be born only a few hours apart and how you ended up falling for someone who knew you better than you knew yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	touch

**Author's Note:**

> some twerkfoxy for my homie dani for her birthday
> 
> im so sorry because i dont remember how to hetereosex romance tango
> 
> i hope you still like it mdear

When he goes up to bat, the entire stadium goes quiet.

He twirls the bat in his hands, throwing it up once and catching it with ease, tapping the plate twice before getting into his batting stance. You can see the focus in his eyes, the sweat coming from the pitcher as he lets the ball rips free from his hand and the smug look on Dirk’s face as the ball cracks off the bat, soaring over the the field and the heads of the rest of the boys and going out of the outfield.

“Homerun! Derse wins!” The announcer yells, and the home team fans go mad with applause. Your fellow cheerleaders shake your pom-poms and shout out a cheer, but it’s only a murmur from you as he runs by, winking and still grinning as he gets back to home plate. You wish you could tell those girls around you that he winked at you and not one of them. You wish you could go run into his arms and give him a big smooch. You wish you could do more than say, “Yep, that’s my brother.”

You wish you weren’t related.

“C’mon Rox, we gotta go set up for the party!” Feferi grabs your arm, and as much as you would like to stay and talk to him after all the fans and reporters have left, you know you can’t. You can see your mother eyeballing you from her spot in the stands, even though she’s pretending to be checking her phone.

There’s always a party when the season ends, especially ever since Dirk joined the team and brought home 2 seasons worth of wins. It’s always at his house, it’s always unsupervised, since Mister Strider is never home and no other parent ever offers to volunteer, and there is always some sort of spiked drink. Not that you even need anything to be spiked, a double vodka on the rocks is just as good without some other drink mixed in with it. 

Setup is pretty minimal, and by the time the team and everyone else arrives, you’re already growing bored, sitting on one of the plush white couches near the windows in the living room. Jane left your company a few minutes ago to go woo Jake for the umpteenth time, so you’ve stretched yourself and enjoyed watching the people.

A slight decrease in the couch and warmth under your legs catches you out of your near drowsy state, turning your head to see the lucky boy himself, a little rough around the edges, but still just as handsome as ever. “Hey there.”

“Hey.” You take a sip from your red plastic cup.

He lets out some sort of a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uninterested in a party.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so sociable at a party.”

Dirk raises a blonde brow, “Excuse me?”

“You’ve just been...” You shrug, “Everywhere, I guess. Don’t like it.”

“Can’t make it too suspicious, y’know. Just ‘cos you’re my girlfriend doesn’t mean you suddenly aren’t my sister anymore.”

You sigh. He slides from under you and takes your hand. You hesitate before putting your cup down and following him. There’s more people that you last remember, but he weaves through them so easily. You already know where you’re going before you get there, and you can’t help but feel a small pang of happiness once he closes the door.

He scoops you up into his arms and you try not to squeal and he puts you down on his bed gently, quick to make the bed dip and hover over you before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. You hardly get a chance to see how nice he looks in his slacks and shirt before everything becomes a blur of his hands all over your body and his lips everywhere they shouldn’t be. 

Sometimes you wish you knew why he had to be related to you, how you had to be born only a few hours apart and how you ended up falling for someone who knew you better than you knew yourself. Every time you think you have the upper hand, he has something better, and the fact you’re the one who gets to have his undivided attention has to be something special, too.

You’re glad he doesn’t complain about the alcohol on your breath, or when you flip him over and roll your hips against his. You know he likes being in control, but you love it more and you’re glad you don’t have to fight him for it. Your fingers weave into his hair and your lips lock until they’re swollen and he’s wearing your lipstick. He looks like a mess and you like the fact that you’re the one who did it.

You haven’t even got to the good part when you hear the music stop downstairs. Both of you freeze as you hear that voice, calm and yet still with traces of rage, speaking out over all the confusion.

“He’s not supposed to be here.” Dirk murmurs as you scramble to find your clothes, “He’s not supposed to be in the fucking country.

Your skirt rips as you rush to tug it back on. “Fucking damn it!”

The footsteps are approaching. You don’t have enough time to exit the room. Panic fills your body and you feel your blood rushing. “Dirk, I--”

“Shh.” He shoves you in his closet. It smells gross, just like the rest of his room. You’d rather be smelling him.

You haven’t seen Mister Strider in a long time, and yet you can still see every similarity between yourself and him, as well as Dirk and your mother. He looks like a teenager almost, if it weren’t for his height and dressy clothing, as well as the sideburns. There’s no facial hair, which makes you want to think he’s around 20, but you know he’s much older, and much smarter than you are.

His eyes scan the room quietly, and you feel your heart race as he looks over to the closet. You have the same eye shape as him, the same jawline, the same hair color. You hate him and at the same time, you have to love him, too. “Rose called me.”

You feel nauseous. “I don’t see why she would do a thing.”

“Concerned. Worried.”

“Nosy?” You see him try not to crack a smile.

“So where is she?”

Dirk points in your direction. Your entire body feels like it’s burning. “You’re pretty intimidating, you know.”

“So I’ve heard. C’mon out, Rox.”

You slide the door open, stepping out confusedly. Dirk pats the spot on the bed next to him and you hesitate again before moving beside him. Dave stares at the two of you for a moment, then lets out a small chuckle. "I guess I can pretend this never happened and tell your mom you went home with Jane if the two of your stop being so fucking obvious."

"Are you serious?" You gape and Dirk rolls his eyes. You punch his arm, "You really aren't gonna tell?"

He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I mean, there's nothing to tell. You were chilling in his closet, he's sitting on the bed. I haven't seen anything."

You find him too hard to believe. Dirk squeezes your leg and whispers for you to just agree. It's better if you just agree, he says. "Thanks, Mister Strider."

"No problem, lil' Lalonde." He waves and then exits the room, and you punch Dirk in the arm again.

Your heart is racing, you head is starting to ache, and you'd honestly rather be at Jane's home at the moment, but instead you're in your boyfriend's arms, letting him leave kisses all over your face and neck, and you have to guess that isn't so bad either.


End file.
